how confusing it must be
to wander off into a season,
other than the one you are currently in
you tip toe through the snow,
hoping the sun won't tint you,
yet,
the ice burns too
you prayed for pumpkins and pomegranates
but received pollen and a warm breeze,
some drops too
it's in the trees
the rocks too
"wonder what they know that I don't,"
you say
they look at you,
the lost,
and ask
"what is today?"
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